


3 sentence prompt: Merab and Irakli in Renaissance Scotland

by sshysmm



Category: And Then We Danced (2019), Lymond Chronicles - Dorothy Dunnett
Genre: 3 Sentence Fiction, Alternate Universe - Historical, Crossover, Fluff, Georgian dancers but make them mercenaries in St Mary's, M/M, Merab and Tosh would get on well I think, Tumblr Prompt, but it's not like three sentences leaves much space for exploring that...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27671344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sshysmm/pseuds/sshysmm
Summary: One of a few little fics fromerinaceina, is the only other person invested in both these fandoms. Thanks for the prompt though, Katherine! <3
Relationships: Merab Lominadze/Irakli (And Then We Danced)
Kudos: 3





	3 sentence prompt: Merab and Irakli in Renaissance Scotland

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Erinaceina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erinaceina/gifts).



> Colchis and Iberia are historical terms for western and eastern Georgia, respectively. Colchis strictly refers to a much earlier period of history, but it's probably a term learned Renaissance types would recognise and use.

It was a long way to come to break the rules: who would have expected to see a Colchian and an Iberian sitting side by side as the warmest of friends - whether in the steamy baths of Persian Tbilisi, on the seafront in Ottoman Batumi, or in a Scottish hall under the command of that notorious leader of men, Francis Crawford of Lymond?

Many things were forbidden in the garrisons of St Mary’s but these did not include: singing in one’s native language, dancing one’s traditional dances in the vast stone hall after a day of hard drills, singing with the only other man there who understood the words, dancing stories with him that were familiar but that became embellished with new material as they retold them together…holding his hand in the dance, sharing a laughing gaze as the mercenaries in the hall clapped to the beat, sitting close by him on the bench afterwards, elbows touching as they reached for their drinks, their knees leaning companionably together beneath the table…these things were not forbidden.

What was forbidden only happened in the freezing darkness of Scottish night, moments stolen in the sweet-smelling stable air, kisses muffling terms of affection spoken in a dialect that had once sounded strange but was now as familiar and lovely as the body pressed against his, as they each conducted an ungentle exploration of the day’s bruises, as he told himself that the commander could never guess what they had come to mean to each other, and what he could not guess at he could not discover, and could not possibly put a stop to - the commander, fully aware of all that occurred in his garrison, chose to allow them their tenderness in a place where it was hard to come by.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahh, canon Francis might be a little less forgiving of hanky-panky in the stables, but we only write happy AUs for M/I.


End file.
